


Armed and Ready

by Destiel_is_Classic



Series: Him Not Me [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:50:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16385000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_is_Classic/pseuds/Destiel_is_Classic
Summary: He loves his new arm, it's beautiful, its a masterpiece and he couldn't have asked for a better replacement for the one he lost, but did it have to be from Stark?





	Armed and Ready

The doctor kept telling him it was going to stop hurting, the therapist swore that eventually, he’ll become accustomed to the missing limb. That eventually he’ll adapt to being armless (He still had a whole other arm he wasn’t armless, stop saying that) but that it would take time and he was going to be okay.

He really wished they would understand that that wasn’t what made him not want to get up in the mornings. That wasn’t what made him skip six physical therapy appointments until Steve physically force (and when the hell did Steve get stronger than him?) Bucky out of bed. He could live around the pain, he could handle the nightmares of waking up and trying to reach for the darkness with an arm that wasn’t there, he could handle the phantom feeling that it was twitching against him.

He really could.

He couldn’t handle that Steve’s boyfriend, the man who took the one good thing away from him, the man who made Steve leave Bucky behind, built him the most beautiful arm in the world. Had spent nearly a whole year creating a masterpiece, fabricating this work of art that Bucky would sometimes look at and cry over the fact that he practically did have his arm back.

“It’ll take some physical therapy, but you are already an excellent candidate and Shuri says she can have it finished with limited need for recalibrations soon,” Stark told him that last time he went in for a fitting. They had sat in the man’s lab for what felt like hours, a young woman Stark kept calling ‘Princess” moving around behind him complaining about how much better her equipment was to his.

“Focus on rearming my gorgeous friend here, okay Princess?” he would tell her.

She’d flip him off but together they had Bucky fitted in a smooth silver arm ( _Are you sure you don’t want us trying to do a flesh colored one?)_ that was the exact measurement as his right arm, down to the way the pinky finger bent slightly to the left. He could move it, flex it, bend it, with some serious thinking and a little strain but Shuri had promised him that was normal.

“You’re actually one of the best candidates we have,” She had told him, patting him on the shoulder before nudging Stark’s elbow, “If it weren’t for Stark pushing his father to open the company to medical equipment-” she trailed off at the look on Tony's face turning her smile back on Bucky.

“By this time next year it’ll be like you never even lost the arm,” She winced, “Sorry, bad joke,”

 

He would lie awake at night, staring up at the ceiling of the apartment Tony had bought for him imagining that he could feel his arm being ripped from his body. Imagining that he could hear the scream coming from him as the paramedics lifted his body off the ground and the muscles and tendons stretched agonizingly as they took him away but his arm stayed behind.

The therapist told him this was normal.

Kept telling him this was normal but was it normal that the only thing that made it all stop was imagining his best friend climbing into his bed those nights? Wrapping strong, muscled arms around him as he pulls Bucky into his chest and presses kisses along the seam of his shoulder where the prosthetic arm would rest. That sometimes he could feel Steve’s lips press against his scars, HIS SCARs, that had no feeling at all no matter how many time he poked and prodded the things. That those nights where he could fall asleep pretending Steve was holding him were the only nights that nightmares didn't plaque his subconscious.

Was that normal?

The first night he had the arm all to himself, the first night that Tony assured him he could leave it on or take it off at his desire because it wouldn’t chafe, he swore, Bucky had the worst dream of his life.

He was lying in bed trying to fight off some dark monster with a screeching laugh that sounded like tires spinning on wet pavement. His heart was pounding and he kept screaming to wake up! Wake up! Dammit just wake up! When suddenly Steve was there shushing him, rocking him, bare chest pressed against Bucky’s back so that he could feel the rise and fall of the other man’s breathing. Slowly the dark monster disappeared and Bucky could breathe for what felt like the first time in forever all because Steve had come to his rescue.

Steve always would.

“It's going to be okay,” Steve had whispered to him.

“Stevie,” Bucky turned his head wanting to kiss him, wanting to taste him but when he turned it wasn’t Steve holding him it was Tony. Tony’s whose brown eyes were bright and vivid filled with emotion and inquisitive knowledge that always made him feel uncomfortable. Tony who somehow always smelled like motor oil and coconuts rocked him back and forth whispering that it was all going to be okay, that he had him, he would always have him.

“Steve,” Bucky pleaded.

“Its okay,” he heard Steve say from the foot of the bed. Bucky tried to look, tried to turn to Steve and ask him why he wasn’t holding him, why Bucky wasn’t good enough?

“He’ll take care of you,” He heard Steve promise before Tony’s lips ghosting across Bucky’s throat, nipping down at his collarbone, tongue tracing the seam where flesh and metal met sending shivers down Bucky’s spine. He could feel Steve’s hands on his legs holding him in place repeating over and over that it was going to be okay, that Tony had him, Tony would make everything better all Bucky had to do was relax.

He promised.

He woke up covered in sweat, chest aching, shame wringing his body until he leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up.

-

“One more, come on Buck, one more,” Steve was standing behind him hands hovering over the dumb-bell he held in his left hand, or well his prosthetic hand. He curled it up, slowly, one more time that day before letting his friend catch it and place it back on the rack as he made his way over to the bench.

‘You did really well today Mr. Barnes,” The physical therapist smiled up at him, her green eyes were bright, lovely and if Bucky really wanted to he knew he could make them roll back in her head as he pounded his aggression in her.

He nodded, “I’ve been trying,” She smiled checking his blood pressure, doing the regular muscle control tests before declaring he was good to go and she would see him on Friday. Steve grinned at him the whole damn time, smiling away as if Bucky was his child and he was a proud parent who was just shown their gold star.

It made him sick.

It made him smile.

“You want to get lunch before I drop you off at the range?” They were making their way towards Steve new car (New car because only the best for the boyfriend of Tony Stark) Steve carrying Bucky’s bag because he hated wearing the arm after therapy.

“Naw,” He looked past the car hoping his mask was held in place, “Not really hungry,” Liar he was starving but anytime Steve brushed against him he’d flashback to his dream and it made him sick.

Steve bit his lip, “Alright,”

-

“Buckster!” Clint yelled when he walked through the door, the bell jingling over his head.

Bucky raised a brow, “Don’t act so surprised, Barton,” Clint jumped over the counter one hand holding his weight as his legs kicked into the air landing with a soft thud. He wrapped Bucky in a hug, squeezing tight and pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling back leaving one arm wrapped around the man’s shoulders.

“I’m always surprised to see you, Barnes, never quite know when you’re gonna catch the wind and run,” It was a joke.

Clint knew Bucky would never leave, ever, not without Steve at his side to ride off into the sunset with.

“Clint,” A new voice called from the back room. Bucky gave Clint a look waiting for an explanation because he was pretty sure no customers were allowed behind the counter and Clint had promised Bucky some, uh, rather much-appreciated stress relief.

The look on Clint’s face was one of sheepish guilt, “Aww, sister, no,”

“Forgot your sister was here?”

Clint pulled his arm back and rubbed his neck the other waving at the doorway, “UH yeah, no, sorry she just got back and wanted to have lunch before she went back to the apartment and I might have double booked myself,”

Rolling his eyes Bucky hoisted his back further up his shoulder, “No problem I can always come back later-”

“Nonsense,” the same voice dragged his attention back to the door, “Just join us,”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this. I am writing everything in pieces and it will take time to all come together I have maybe four or five more parts left before the final story. Comments are always appreciated, you lovely people!


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